


Typeset

by Dorktapus42



Series: Come Together-verse [12]
Category: Youtuber (RPF)
Genre: Be warned., Blood, Death, Host backstory! Yay!, Narrations, Not kidding about the death., Or the blood. It's an very in-depth description about Host so..., Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-28 16:00:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17790410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dorktapus42/pseuds/Dorktapus42
Summary: Everyone has a backstory. The Host is no exception.





	Typeset

**Author's Note:**

> So... warning time! Blood, I'd go with mild gore, death (an in-depth death scene to boot) Narrations that result in death, all of that fun stuff. Host has quite the backstory. Kinda short, but quite a backstory nonetheless. 
> 
> So.... Happy Valentines Day?

He adjusted his jacket in the mirror. That looked good enough. 

Signature pen into the little specially-designed pocket… good. Now time to play with his toys. He went to the little room adjoining his bedroom. All that was in there was a typewriter and a single desk and chair. No distractions.

He sat and put in a piece of paper. 

“What? Where was he? How did he get here?” The room filled with the clacking of the typewriter. “He looked around the small space. Nothing but bare concrete walls-”

“Who did that mysterious voice belong to? The buttery-smooth timbre was all he could hear.”

He jumped as the handwritten additions appeared on the piece of paper. What? No! What was this? “He tried to search for some kind of door in the small space-”

“But found nothing, seeing as it was pitch-black.”

His mouth tightened. “But found nothing, seeing as  _ he couldn’t see. _ ” He bit out, hands tightening into fists, the pen from his pocket crossing out the addition so hard he almost tore the paper. How dare that plaything overrule him?!

There was a sharp intake of breath. He continued on, mercilessly. 

“He tried to find a door in the small space, hands blindly searching the floor and walls. He came across an object a few feet away- a wooden baseball bat with nails stuck through on the end, forming jutting spikes that pricked his fingers. Blood ran down his hands-”

“As he grabbed the handle and stood, turning towards the single window that separated him from his tormentor.” 

A window appeared on one end of the room and he stood in surprise at the sight of the bloody man who gripped the bat he’d given him. Where his eyes used to be were gaping holes, the blood rubbing down his face and into his tan jacket. Blood dripped onto the floor as with a crash, the window was smashed in. Oh shit. Oh god what had he-

He made to move towards his typewriter-

“He was frozen in place as he saw his inevitable demise creep closer, the perfect karma staring him right in the face as the true host of this party walked ever nearer.”

He couldn’t move. He couldn’t move, he was stuck. He made to call out for Dark-

“His voice failed as a lump grew in his throat, making him unable to speak.” 

He couldn't make a sound. He choked on the words, eyes bugging out as the man slowly moved closer, inch by inch. 

“He was paralyzed, and with one final swing-” The Host raised the bat, blood dripping onto his clothing as he lined up the shot with what he could only sense, never quite see. There was a wet-sounding  _ thunk _ . 

  
  


“-he was dead.”

**Author's Note:**

> So.... yeah. That's his secret. 
> 
> I wonder when he'll share it....
> 
> Anyway, Happy Valentines Day! Kind of a weird gift to you all but... eh, whatever. I said it was coming, so here it is! Just a bit earlier than I planned. Have a good one, and I hope you enjoyed!


End file.
